


Peggy's Pocket Problems

by TeaAndATale



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-14 23:39:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7195916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndATale/pseuds/TeaAndATale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy Carter was not a woman to complain, but would it kill anyone to let her own a single pair of trousers with pockets? (Or how the Howling Commandos hatch a plan.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by wishing the First Avenger had ten times more Peggy. Also inspired by the real incredible women of WWII. Also I fully believe Peggy was a true member of the Commandos.  
> I'm using the members of the Howling Commandos from both the movie and the Agent Carter TV show, but there will not be any other real spoilers for the show.  
> I've studied/researched WWII a lot for various reasons, so this is as historically accurate as possible, but it's meant to be part of the MCU so obviously I've taken some liberties.  
> 

The polished wood of her desktop was buried under piles and piles of files, and it had been that way for four straight days. The open area where her desk was located was quiet except for the sounds of incessant typing and occasional murmurs that she had long tuned out. Peggy was three hours deep into communication reports, hand cramped and eyes blurry, when Colonel Phillips approached her desk.

“How’s that paperwork coming Carter?”

“Steadily. Nothing of note yet, sir.”

Phillips nodded. “Finish up your current report and meet me in my office. Got an assignment for you.” 

Interest peaked, and excited for the prospect of a break from the monotony of sitting at her desk sifting through reports, she finished her work in record time. She signed her last document with particular flourish, and hurried off to Phillips’ office. 

“We’ve heard from the Polish Resistance. They’ve picked up some chatter from their counterparts in the east. They have a solid lead on a potential HYDRA base. And that it may be getting some help from some Russian Nazi sympathizers. Obviously, I need to send someone I can trust to confer on this joint operation,” Phillips looked over his white ceramic mug at her carefully. “Think you can handle taking point on this Carter?”

She practically jumped at the chance to leave the stuffy bunker. To leave London, desolate and grey. Peggy had been more than a little antsy sitting through meeting upon meeting, liaising between Allied intelligence agencies. Her abilities were far more useful out in the field. And after weeks of closed, cramped quarters, this would be the perfect escape.

“Of course, sir.” Peggy replied, back straight, voice confident.

“Good. You’re main objective is intelligence. The rest of your team is backup and firepower once the plans are in motion. You’re going to be the one make contact with the Resistance group.”

They needed a trusted secret agent, a strategist, someone who knew the terrain and the languages and could handle themselves with a gun. Peggy Carter was the ideal candidate, ticking off the box on each criteria. And she was the only one Phillips had considered. 

“And Rogers’ ragtag team is in desperate need of someone of your skillset.”

Peggy felt her pulse race with eagerness. She had hoped that once Phillips’ mentioned HYDRA that her path would cross with the Howling Commandos. And with confirmation, her excitement only grew. 

Once Phillips had finished briefing her, she headed straight toward her tiny quarters to pack. Peggy suited up in whatever she could expropriate from headquarters. She ditched her skirts immediately in favor of trousers, but unfortunately the only trousers she can manage for the winter weather were basic woolen army fatigues. They would have to do, but she wished they had even a single pocket. Damned fabric rationing. Damned scarcity of quality tactical gear for women. Peggy had no time to steal a man's trousers to tailor. She kept her cheap nylon stockings on, handy as another layer if nothing else, and put her long johns on over her slip. She’d likely need the warmth. 

She reserved her only two real pockets, the pair on her jacket with the button fasteners, to the resources she would need at the ready. She filled them with extra ammunition for her pistol, almost to the point of bursting the seams. Peggy knew she’d be issued a proper firearm, but Phillips would likely not appreciate her lugging it around while trying to be discreet. 

Given her lack of pockets, her standard issue handbag would have to join her, even with its slim, insubstantial strap. Four years she'd worked for various military outfits and she still couldn't believe the kinds of attire women had to resort to out in the field. She suspected this had a lot to do with the men who made decisions on behalf of women. Typical. But the women of Britain had a keen talent for managing, even in the worst circumstances. Make do and mend, as the pamphlets stated.

Peggy packed her lipstick, powder compact and a small container of cream, packing away the few other cosmetics she owned. She made a mental note to stop by Phillips’ secretary. In exchange for safekeeping of her few other personal belongings, she’d let the woman feel free to use her perfume in the case of a night out. Perhaps on a date. It would be nice for someone to get some use of it.

Peggy was almost through packing up her Musette Bag, blanket neatly rolled up, when Phillips poked his head into the room. 

“Hope you packed your skirts Carter. Our contacts are expecting a lady,” he said.

Peggy grumbled as he left, noting the slight smirk on the old man’s face. She knew he couldn’t care less, but unfortunately a lady-like presence was part of the appeal of undercover female operatives. She packed a single skirt, the one that flared the most. 

She shipped out just hours later, getting a ride from Headquarters to the airstrip. The plane ride happened under the cover of night and she was dropped in a safe part of the continent. Peggy still had a few miles to trek on foot to meet the boys at the predetermined rendezvous point. It had been over a month since she last saw Steve and the rest of the Commandos in the flesh. She watched plenty of their reels with Colonel Phillips, but it would be nice to catch up in person. To see Steve’s blue eyes. 

Peggy spotted him, waiting for her at the edge of a clearing. For a second she paused, stalk still and silent, and watched him before he spotted her. He was wearing the red, white and blue suit Howard Stark rigged up for Captain America. His shield was under his arm but he was not wearing the helmet. Even from twenty yards away and the still dark dawn, she could see blond hair and the back of his neck. She allowed herself one quick admiring look and smile before she continued toward him. He craned his neck not a second later, a pleased smile appearing on his face when their eyes met. He held his fist up to signal to the lookouts. Bucky was hidden up in a tree with his rifle and Peggy waved up to him when she was within ten feet of Steve. 

“Agent Carter,” he greeted.

“Captain.”

There was a loud thump as Bucky’s boots hit the ground. He nodded once at her and they headed east to the waiting trucks, Bucky falling just a step behind the two of them. Peggy was more than glad to see Steve whole and in good spirits but she kept her head focused ahead. First, they need to get to the truck and get on route. They had a long way to go and would need to set up camp in a safe spot before nightfall. 

Dugan greeted her from the driver’s seat. Jones, perusing a map that spread over his lap and onto the dashboard, looked up to say hello. Once Steve checked on their other truck and told Morita to send a signal back to headquarters, the three hopped into the back.

"And how's lovely London been without our faces, Agent Carter?" Bucky said in that teasing voice that often made women swoon at his feet.

"Still being bombed, Sergeant Barnes," Peggy shot back, her voice clipped.

She’s quite used to the boys’ behavior. This was not her first tag-a-long with the Howling Commandos, but there was work to be done. Right now Peggy needed to know any further intel they may have gained about the potential HYDRA base, and why it would be so close to the Soviet border. And Peggy, unlike these men, had not had the luxury of being apart from London for the last few weeks, away from the buildings aflame in her birthplace. 

The smirk on Bucky’s face fell, but her brusque tone had also made Steve frown. The latter part she regretted causing as soon as she saw it. 

"Well, it's a good thing you’re here to help us get to work," Steve said firmly.

Peggy smiled. "Quite so." 

In the relative safety of the truck, once all the information and plans have been laid out, Peggy loosened her professional facade. Within the SSR Headquarters she had to hold herself in a particular state of decorum. It was easy to forget that she could just be part of the team, not needing to constantly prove herself. Out here, she felt an ease and kinship with these men. 

“Now, Barnes, tell me all about Captain America’s latest adventures,” she started. “I hear that shield tossing may become the latest great athletic pastime.”

Bucky grinned and dove right into the latest tales of the unbelievable feats Steve performed while still testing the limits of his heightened capabilities. He had enough material and charisma to fill most of the drive, aided by Dugan and Jones’ colorful commentary, much to Peggy’s delight and to Steve’s disapproval. She knew he wasn’t keen on the spotlight, or being some sort of icon, but she loved these stories all the same. The adventures of Captain America appealed to her so much in part because she knew the real man in the suit. And hearing tales of Steve in his element made her proud. Peggy made a point to catch his eye and smile. 

And later with the whole group of eleven squeezed around the campfire, when she was given a proper Howling Commando welcome, full of laughter and cheer, Peggy sat close enough to Steve that their thighs touched.


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy wandered out of a small brick house on the outskirts of a city after a long meeting. It was her third in two days. Steve and Dernier were waiting for her, and followed her lead as she said nothing until they made their way to the rest of the group. The mission was put on hold. Peggy had told them they had new orders, and no one questioned her. Even Steve, who so readily wanted to destroy Schmidt’s bases, only asked about the new plan. Peggy explained that the Resistance were not willing to go with a hasty attempt led by a figure as iconic as Captain America. Any misstep would cause ruthless retribution upon the innocent. It was their home land, and going so close to the Soviet border presented its own set of problems. However, Peggy had offered the Howling Commandos’ service to them regardless. 

She remembered how the boys had treated her too delicately on her first outing with them. Steve had of course talked her up but they hadn’t personally seen her in action. She was a supervisor from SSR headquarters. She was the woman in the red dress that mostly ignored them in favor of their leader. But as a soldier, a comrade, she was untested. In his silent brooding expression, Bucky had made it clear that he was loyal to Steve and not her. But Peggy was used to proving her worth, and her abilities would speak louder than any verbal flattery. And for Peggy, it was the first time a group of men had trusted her so unconditionally. Once she had shown them her merits, they had accepted her into their ranks.

Because Peggy forged a new budding alliance with not only the Polish Resistance but their special operations teams, she was given maps, contacts, and plenty of intercepted intelligence to keep the Commandos occupied. With Colonel Phillips’ blessing they were to track HYDRA agents to and from their resources. Cutting off Schmidt’s supply lines would likely force him to more desperate measures. And Phillips liked making his enemies feel desperate. Amongst the chatter came a recent list of HYDRA strongholds and recently seized assets along the Western Front. And so while the Eastern Front was put on hold, the clandestine meetings provided them with new leads within their reach. 

 

It was snowing hard one night, more icy pebbles than soft flakes, as they made their way back across enemy lines, moving through France for another secret meeting with another contact. They had been tracking HYDRA agents all the while, those in plainclothes, trained for infiltration. Saboteurs. Unfortunately for Schmidt’s men, Dernier knew these lands better than even the deep-seated moles.

The wind kicked up and Peggy felt it cut at her exposed face. But it was not the cold that was most bothersome to Peggy. To keep her pack safe she had it on under her a makeshift cover but it was proving tricky to pass along bullets and even harder to give Jones dry bandages for his still leaking wound. She made an attempt to shuffle things around in her two front pockets only to have cartridges fall out into the fresh snow.

"Bloody hell! Blasted pockets!" Peggy exclaimed over the wailing wind.

It was the first thing she had ever complained about, ever, and it was startling to hear. To Peggy’s further annoyance, it made them roar with laughter. Her exclamation startled Junior so much that he walked straight into Pinky who promptly fell over under the weight of his pack. When Sawyer and Falsworth had set Pinky back on his feet, they found amusement in mimicking Peggy’s complaint. She grumbled and let them pass her while she reached for her fallen supplies. Frustration already built, she was ready for her mood to remain dour for the rest of the evening. Peggy handed Jones one last bandage and then marched back to her spot in front with Steve.

On that first mission Peggy had been sent to the back, as far from the action as possible, even though she was just as good a shot as Dugan, perhaps even comparable to Bucky’s sharpshooting. She didn’t argue, she just did her job pulling up the rear. It had been a snowy, freezing day, very similar to the one they were currently trekking through. And it reminded her of how things went from messy to disastrous on that mission. 

The icy terrain led to a moment with Steve flat on his stomach without a weapon, and a gun aimed at his back. They had been surrounded and outnumbered. Bucky sprinted in Steve’s direction, trying to line a shot up at the same time, only for him to skid across the same icy patch and end up in Steve’s spot. Bucky had shut his eyes in the anticipation of the bullet. But it never came. Instead, he heard a cracking sound against the ice near him. The body had slumped inches from him. There was blood pooling against the white ground. The enemy soldier was shot clean in the head. 

“Goddamn that was a good shot,” he cried out, expecting to see Dugan, but only Peggy was running at him from the correct angle. 

He looked at her in admiration, but she didn’t even look at him, as she continued running toward Jones’ growing trouble. She managed two more swift, efficient and lethal shots. Steve had recovered and pulled Bucky to his knees. Distracted by checking on them, Peggy missed the soldier she thought she incapacitated and he grabbed her from behind. She gasped against his squeezing hands at her throat, as he cursed her in German. Bucky had trained his gun but before he managed a clear shot, she slammed her boot into his crotch, jerking free of him just as Steve’s shield knocked him all the way to the ground.

When the fire fight had died down, it was quiet for a moment, as the group made sure the area was clear, and they took inventory of their own. Bucky’s knee throbbed and he was bleeding. The rest of the Commandos hadn’t looked any better. Carter looked just as winded but she was the first one moving. Falsworth had received a blow to the head and she was squatting in front of him, testing his vision. Dugan checked the bodies. Steve scouted the perimeter. Once Falsworth had passed Peggy’s tests, they set on toward the cover of the forest. They walked through the freezing cold until they could hardly make out the trees from the sky.

It was just as dark, but on the current trek the snow didn’t seem likely to let up. Steve told them they would go three more miles before setting up camp. Peggy was still frowning stubbornly, cursing her jacket pockets in her head, only to fall into a fouler mood every time her handbag strap dug into her shoulder under the weight of her pack. She vaguely heard Junior and Morita still snickering about Peggy’s anger at pockets. She had a right mind to smack them both.

But then Dugan belched something fierce, the sound warped and silly.

“Goddamn Dum-Dum. Did you swallow a frog out here in this god forsaken winter wasteland?” Morita joked, causing the whole group to burst into laughter.

Even Peggy snorted, looking up to see Steve’s laughter.

“Think Dum-Dum’s been ordering frog legs from Nazis?” Jones asked. 

Dugan made a big show about his disdain for frog legs, sticking his tongue out and groaning.

“Êtes-vous d'accord?” Jones asked Dernier. “Cuisses de grenouille?”

Dernier pressed his fingers to his lips and made a smacking sound as he lifted them. “Délicieux.”

“I’d eat frog legs if it meant not eating rations,” Bucky chimed in.

“Even from a Nazi?” Junior asked earnestly.

Peggy took comfort in the goofy grin on Steve's face underneath his helmet. It was nice to see him surrounded by a group of men who treated each other like family. It was a stark contrast to the day she met Steve Rogers, when he was surrounded by bullies and opportunists. 

“Well Captain? What do you think?” Peggy asked.

“If I ever chance to visit France like a tourist, Dernier you better serve me the best frog’s legs in the country,” Steve grinned.

“Then I’m staying far as hell away from you and your frog breath,” Dugan shouted only to let out other belch.

They continued the joke for longer than it was worth. But the laughter was contagious and out here any laughter you could find was to be celebrated.

“I think you’ll have quite the dinner party as long as Dugan’s not invited,” Peggy murmured to Steve.

He laughed. “Well, just as long as you come along. Then it’ll be a party.”

 

A few days later they ran into a HYDRA transport, stopped at an outpost for the night. They made a plan and set up three miles down the road. Peggy helped Dernier rig up explosives in choice locations, while Steve dug out subtle holes to slow their vehicles. 

"Fellas, where's the extra munition?" Jones called out.

"Carter has it," Falsworth replied.

Jones spotted Peggy in the middle of wiring up a bomb so he walked over and picked up her abandoned handbag without thinking. He rifled through her bag, filling up his gun. He couldn’t seem to fit one of the cartridges in and he started shoving it in forcefully.

"What in the hell? What kind of junk is Carter carrying?" he exclaimed loudly to no one in particular.

The next moment the bullet was snatched from Jones' grip and he looked up to see Peggy arching her eyebrow at him in warning. He didn't manage to let any objection loose because Peggy twisted the tip off and raised it to her lips. She painted a fresh red coat in one swift stroke before slipping the lipstick into her pocket. He was captivated.

"Did your mother never teach you any manners?" she bristled. "What do you think you're doing, going through a woman's purse? Without permission, no less." Peggy scolded, snatching her handbag away from him. 

The men closest were openly gaping at her. Jones was still staring at her lips. Bucky was slapping his knee in glee. There was even laughter on Steve's lips, mixed into awe. 

"I- But- that's where the bullets were!" Jones muttered in a rare display of awkwardness. Peggy was already heading across the camp, back to work, but stopped to turn back toward the continuing guffawing and snickers. 

"I’m going to put you through remedial etiquette lessons, Jones," she said with her hands on her hips. 

"Yes, ma'am," Jones agreed readily. 

No one willingly wanted to get on the wrong side of Carter. Not after seeing her ruthless and enthusiastic blows to men’s private parts. 

"And if I had normal trousers with pockets like you lot, I wouldn't have to carry that bloody bag!"

Now Jones joined in on the laughter, because there was nothing more entertaining than Peggy's bitter rivalry with an inanimate object, which she couldn't beat into submission. But the Commandos learned their lesson. They never again went through Peggy's bags without permission. And Jones spent the next day in fear of Peggy's retribution, yet failed to look away from her lips.

 

On the rare days Peggy was sent out into a town alone to meet a comrade or gain some intel, Steve was put in charge of Carter's pack and personal effects. At first the boys volunteered him because it was an amusing way to push both Steve and Peggy's buttons. But they figured if anyone was going to attract the wrath of Peggy over touching her things, Steve could handle it best. And honestly, they hoped that maybe he would finally get a kiss out of Carter for his trouble. 

Taking care of her pack gave Steve something to do other than worry, and those were the days he worried the most, even when Bucky was not far behind. He was her back-up from the shadows, hidden on a rooftop or in a tree with his eyes fixed on the scope of his gun. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t know Peggy could handle herself, but all she had was a tiny pocketknife and her pistol. And for the sake of secrecy, and not spooking their contacts, Steve and the rest of the Commandos had to stay far and clear. The silence and waiting took its toll.

It was those days that Bucky really got a chance to see Carter, the spy, in action. He watched her speak with ease and friendliness to the contacts she was meeting. He marveled at her ability to charmingly convince hesitant men and scare the cowardly ones straight. He watched her ability to sneak through crowded streets and somehow make friends and allies of scared mothers, widows and desperate working girls, always trying to help them through at least the day in return for their trouble.

In a seemingly sleepy village, a HYDRA agent had slipped through their net. Bucky spotted him just before Peggy had left the secret meeting location, the man lying in wait across the way. Bucky, quietly, moved closer to line up a shot. He didn’t risk abandoning his post in case the agent was not alone. Luckily Peggy had looked at him the moment she opened the door allowing Bucky to signal her. He saw the knowing look in her eyes. If she was followed to the safe house, they were looking for information. She would use that against him. Peggy walked purposely away from the building. And then as she heard the man’s steps get heavy, she paused for a second, just enough to perfectly time her dropping to her knees. The man tripped and exclaimed as he fell face first into the dirt road. His outstretched arm was wielding a knife. 

She stomped on his hand until he released it with a scream. She kicked it away and was suddenly aware of commotion from the villagers around her. Peggy grabbed him by his satchel just as he was forcing his way to his feet.

“Who are you?” Peggy hissed.

“Heil HYDRA,” he grunted. 

She threw all her weight into forcing him in a chokehold. Peggy Carter had always found a way to use what was around her and to Bucky nothing was more satisfying than watching her throttle a Hydra operative with his own gear. 

Her victory was short-lived, as the concerned commotion around her turned into terrified screams. She spun to see another man, this one in a prominent black uniform, training his pistol at her. The screams hit their crescendos as a shot was fired. Bucky had gotten him straight through the heart. Peggy sighed and looked up at him as he scrambled off the rooftop. The shop girls, and other milling townsfolk congregated around Peggy, sobbing, thanking her in warbling French. By the time Bucky had gotten to her side, she had gotten an explanation, in English and French, that the man she throttled had been terrorizing the town for weeks, stealing from their shop tills and their farms. Peggy listened to their pleas and their thanks attentively.

“We should get these bodies out of here,” Bucky murmured, as the villagers eyed his rifle warily.

Peggy nodded. “I’m going to go back to the safe house. I need to warn them about what’s happened. Can you take care of them?”

“Carter, I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’ll be fine. Please. We need to clean up our tracks and keep the trust we’ve built. Steve will see you coming and help.”

He frowned. “Fine, but you meet me at the edge of town in half an hour. If you’re not here, I’m coming back with Steve.”

Peggy rolled her eyes and leaned over the first body. “Such fuss,” she mumbled, taking his money and supplies. “Give me an hour. Let me handle this Barnes, before we blow their cover.”  
“One hour,” he relented, voice still disapproving.

Bucky helped her strip the bodies of anything useful and then started dragging them in the direction of the Commandos’ camp. He turned to see Peggy setting money into the hands of a woman carrying two young children while working in the town's bakery. He listened to her stilted French conversations as she doled out the rest of supplies. If anyone was to be trusted with a sensitive operation, it was Agent Carter. 

An hour later, the sun already set, Bucky waited at the edge of the village. Peggy walked toward him, her gait not as dainty as it had been earlier. In fact, she seemed to be a bit larger.

“What no Steve?” she asked as they made eye contact. “I’m insulted.”

He snorted. “The boys found a motorcycle that they think belonged to the guy in the black suit. Steve went to go lose it away from the town. Just in case.”

“Oh good. Smart man.”

“Took forever to convince him I could escort you back just fine myself,” he smirked.

“Well, he’ll be rewarded for his sensibleness. I come bearing gifts,” Peggy told him, as they began the mile trek toward the campground. “The villagers offered me some food, especially once I explained that Captain America’s men were on the job.”

Bucky clapped her on the back. “Is that why you look as big and bulky?”

She glared at him. “Don’t touch. It took careful maneuvering to get it all to sit still under here.”

“Well as long as you didn’t pull a Steve. I dunno if I can handle another person coming out significantly bigger than the last time I’d seen them.”

Back at camp, Peggy unloaded her treasures. She had only taken a small portion of what was offered. The Commandos still had enough to get by, and these people had it worse than they did. Still, her handbag was stuffed.

“If I had pockets, I would have brought more," she complained over the hooting and hollering of ration-fed soldiers who’d just been presented with fat, juicy, fresh sausages. 

It looked like she wouldn't have an audience for her pocket related complaints, not with a near feast happening. Food was always a cause for celebration. She sighed and started to unbutton her wool shirt under her coat. The Commandos’ chatter turned into surprised silence. They watched her pull two small loaves of bread out of her shirt.

"Don't you dare, any of you, make any comment unbefitting of gentlemen," she warned. 

Dugan's howl was the loudest, followed by the rest of them joining in a chorus in various states of confidence, except for Steve. He turned pink, and averted his eyes, instead taking the proffered bread. 

“Still nice and warm,” Dugan commented with a leer, “thanks Carter.”

She smacked him for it and he yelped.

“I’m sorry Peggy, I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

Peggy fixed him a withering glare and went to check on her pack where it sat next to Steve’s against the tent. 

"Nice work today Carter," Bucky told her over the noise of dinner being divvied up. 

“Same to you Sergeant.” Peggy touched his arm to keep him there. She wriggled until she pulled out something from deep inside her sleeve. It was a long foil-wrapped rectangle of chocolate that she pressed into his hand. "For your efforts," she said with a nod. "I thought you and Steve would like to share it."

It was Peggy's way of thanking him for having her back against the HYDRA operative. Bucky broke the rectangle in half, handing some back to her. 

"You give it to Steve," he said with a jerk of his head toward the Captain. 

Peggy followed his gaze toward Steve sitting in the middle of the group, helping cut up slices of bread, a small smile on his face as he listens to his comrades' boisterous chatter. 

"Kinda melted, what with being stuck up your arms," Bucky teased, pulling a face of annoyance. “You should have used that guy’s satchel.”

“I gave it to someone who needed it more.”

“Next time don’t be so selfless. I would really prefer my chocolate rewards to not be ruined by your lack of pockets.”

She elbowed his arm just enough to jostle him and then made her way to sit next to Steve. Bucky watched as his best friend moved to give Peggy enough room next to him. 

Bucky thought back to that night after Carter had saved his ass. Everyone had been a little quiet and exhausted that night. Dugan had clapped Carter on the back and volunteered to join her for the first watch. Bucky relieved Dugan not long after, promising Peggy that Steve would relieve her just as soon as he finished his patrol.

“Couldn’t have called it any closer with that shot, Carter?” he joked.

“Yes, I waited until it got interesting.”

“You’re a hell of a brawler,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief in his recall of her moves. “And pretty damn scary, Carter.”

She smiled proudly at this sentiment, not even bothering to correct him for not calling her Agent. Bucky calling her just by her surname, like he did with the rest of the men, felt like a badge of honor. She felt like he had made her a real part of the team. Peggy had drained her canteen just as Steve came into view. It was only when she stood that he had finally noticed that her hand was bandaged and that there were bruises on her neck. Bucky couldn’t believe it because he hadn’t heard a peep out of her since the fight. He hadn’t thought she might have actually felt any pain. Bucky himself hadn’t whined too much about his knee, but he sure did curse it out loud. And Dugan and Morita had both groaned constantly. 

Bucky had watched Steve eye her carefully but she only nodded and bid them good night as she had offered Steve her spot.

“You should have asked her to join us earlier,” Bucky said when Steve sat down.

“Can’t. Above my station. Anyway she’s too valuable for us to afford her. Phillips needs her more than we do.”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I think we might need her more than anyone thinks.”

Steve grinned with pride. “I told ya, jerk.”

Bucky guffawed. “Yeah, but she’s not our girl. She’s yours.”

“She’s her own girl,” Steve grumbled.

“Alright, alright. Mr. Sensitive. You know what I mean. And if you think the rest of them don’t see it, you’re wrong. Not that I blame you, she’s a hell of a lady.”

 

After another moment, Bucky rejoined the group around the fire just in time to be presented with a sausage that Dugan had managed not to burn. He continued to watch as Steve's entire attention zeroed in on Peggy, as she undoubtedly said something sassy that made Steve laugh. And to his private approval, Steve seemed to make her laugh right back. Later, once the food was eaten, and the crowd thinned around the fire, he watched the grin on Steve’s face when Peggy offered him the chocolate. With the way Peggy smiled brightly back, both lost in each other’s eyes, Bucky couldn’t understand how either of them thought they were fooling anyone.

If only the skinny kid from Brooklyn knew what the world would bring his way. That all those lonely nights wouldn't last forever. And so Bucky tried to give his friend any moment he can have with his girl. He couldn’t help enjoying the scene for himself. Steve Rogers falling in love, how could he resist such a turn of events.


	3. Chapter 3

It was not a silent march out of German territory, but the mood was just as grave. Instead of silent mourning, there were hisses, whimpers, sniffs, and all other sounds of pain. Peggy own raspy breathing floated through the air. 

The Howling Commandos had managed to blow up a HYDRA outpost, eviscerating the building until only a few low walls dotted the terrain, haphazardly lying around still crackling flames. But the victory, hard won as it was, provided no sense of triumph. There were no grins to be seen, and no Wahoo’s to be heard. 

Most of them had burn marks of some sort, ranging in size and shape, Dernier with the worst. The outpost was not empty as they had been led to believe. They found out too late that there were civilians inside, prisoners, forced to work, just as once the Commandos had. Dernier felt it was his responsibility to check the explosives, even as Steve ordered him back.

Naturally, Steve himself jumped into the already under fire building, with Bucky not far behind him. Steve had ordered the rest of them to get clear, to find another exit if possible, and get as many people as they could beyond the impact zone. He hadn’t noticed that Peggy had already run in ahead of them shouting in German. 

"Lauf! Lauf jetzt!" 

Peggy ran at full speed, never slowing even as she grabbed alarmed men and women, pulling them toward the rear exit, hoping the building would last long enough to let them escape. Steve and Bucky followed her lead. Dernier and Jones had made a last ditch attempt to contain their still inactive explosives, while the rest of the Commandos predicted Peggy's trajectory, and circled the building to pull people clear of the blast radius as she led them out.

Over the radio Steve held they heard a muffled Dernier shouting more and more desperately. They needed to clear the building. Immediately. But Peggy was motionless. Steve had shouted at Peggy to get out, but she was staring at a sobbing woman.

"Mein Sohn!" the woman shouted over and over as she fell to her knees. 

Dernier was crying out even more urgently over the radio, as Bucky grabbed the sobbing woman up and away from the building. But then Peggy ran inside, toward the one corner they missed. Before she realized it, she was lifted off her feet. It was Steve, angry and focused. They found a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, cowering, tears streaked down his face, gaze unfocused just before the blast hit. Steve pushed both Peggy and the boy under his body, under the protection of his shield, raised above their curled bodies. 

The sound of the blast was all engulfing. And in the darkness, all went silent. 

Peggy was distantly aware of pressure from above and below her, ears ringing, and her breath caught. It was dark and noiseless and for a long moment Peggy was sure this was how her story would end. But then the smoke trickled in and found its way into her lungs and she was aware of terrible coughing. It was only after a few seconds she realized that she was the one coughing. She had to still be alive then. 

Steve groaned above her, finally bracing to push upward. Debris and rubble scattered as Steve pressed the shield up and away from them. Smoke billowed and there was not much to see as she continued to cough. Peggy looked below her, worried that she crushed the young boy. But there was not a moment to check. Steve shifted as much debris as he could to make a path, or at least room enough to stand. He pulled Peggy and the boy up in one motion, then leapt over one of the low walls that remained intact in front of them. He had no idea how they managed to survive. 

The radio was lost and destroyed. There was no means of sending out an alive status as they had to stagger around the long way toward the rendezvous point. Peggy couldn't stop coughing. Her handkerchief was in her pack since there had been room for nothing but explosives in her jacket pocket. She hobbled along once Steve let her down, moving forward with one hand on the boy even though she knew she wasn't contributing to Steve's carrying of him. 

Dugan was the one who first spotted them, where the smoke was finally thinning out, his face grim. Steve tried to do a head check as they get closer to the edge of the perimeter, but Bucky's head shake told him what he really wanted to know. 

Peggy spotted the sobbing woman, still on her knees where Bucky presumably left her. Unable to form words, she gestured for Steve to set the boy down. Peggy crawled next to him, checked him for a pulse as her own chest was still heaving, as she choked on her own breaths. 

"Lebt," she managed after a few moments.

She left the sobbing mother to look after her son.

"Danke, danke, danke," Peggy heard vaguely from behind her as she took another few steps before falling to her knees. 

She tried to focus on looking through her pack, even as just getting it off her shoulders proved difficult. She struggled to get it open, to keep from falling over. 

"Scheiße!" Peggy cursed hoarsely when she couldn't seem to get her hands to work, somehow losing her sense of the English language at the same time.

In fact, she couldn't recall what it was she was trying to look for in the first place. She needed water. And to cover her mouth and nose. The smoke was much less thick out here but she couldn't take anymore. Peggy had resolved to give up and lie in the grass, when one of the boys pulled her up. Dugan had a grave expression as he handed her a canteen. Steve had also returned to her side and she noticed that part of his uniform was singed, the rest no longer recognizably blue as he was covered in soot. She couldn’t imagine looking any better herself. Her hazy eyesight registered Steve’s face staring, but she didn't have the lung capacity or the clear head to thank him. 

She gulped water from Dugan's canteen between hacking coughs. Then after one particular powerful cough she keeled over. Her head spun and her limbs quivered. She realized she was no longer looking at the ground. The trees had thinned out, and there was a road. Someone had picked her up, and was carrying her as the group headed toward the nearest village. What was left of them anyway, she later learned. They didn't manage to save all the prisoners, nor could they stop the ones who risked it all to go back in to try to save someone else. She felt the blood on her hands, as she knew her comrades did.

When she finally had a clear enough head, she swatted at the arms around her.

“Peggy,” she heard hissed into her ear. 

It was Steve, and he was angry. 

She continued to shift against him until finally he let her down. Peggy didn’t want to think about the botched mission, or the grim sympathy on Dugan’s face or Steve’s anger that she was attributing to her disobeying his order. She wanted to walk on her own two feet, to have something to occupy her body. And anyway, she was not in as bad shape as some of the others, and definitely not in as bad condition considering she ducked into a bombed building. 

After they escorted the prisoners to the village, the Commandos headed back in the direction of base camp. None of them spoke, with the exception of Steve laying out the direction. They were all worn out, and in pain. Guilt began to really set in. 

Peggy watched Dernier go through his medical supplies, using up anything and everything useful. Along with the burns that puckered Dernier's skin, Peggy could sense the burden of guilt he was experiencing. He was the explosive expert, in charge of the detonations, and she knew he felt like he was the one responsible for the innocent lives. Even though he was not the strategist. It was not his decision to bomb the building. He had simply been following orders. But Peggy had nothing to offer him at the moment, as she herself felt the crushing guilt, under the already compressing pressure on her lungs. It took everything she had just to walk. And the soot covered image of Steve leading the way only furthered her guilt. She winced as Dernier smeared the last of his ointment, not daring to ask anyone else if they had any supplies left. It pained her, but it would have to keep until they settled down for the night. Hopefully by that point her hands would be steadier.

When they finally set up the tents, Peggy, now able to speak more than a few words, asked all the men with burns to line up and contribute whatever remained of their own first-aid kits. They scrounged up enough medical supplies for Peggy and Falsworth to ration out, carefully cleansing, and dabbing ointment on the worst wounds. Bucky, who only had a few minor cuts himself, snipped bandages and carefully applied dressings. Steve was out securing the perimeter. 

Peggy was so focused on the men, on gently cleaning injuries, that she hardly noticed when she started coughing again. Bucky took the tube from her hands, pressed it into Falsworth's palm, and then helped her up away from the crowd. She stumbled, her eyes gone blurry again, but Bucky held her up.

He sat her down on a log far away from the fire and forced her head between her legs, his arm thrown around her to keep her steady. Bucky directed her to inhale and exhale. He caught Steve out of the corner of his eye, looking on in concern. Bucky nodded in reassurance at his friend and continued to calmly count out the length of the breaths he wanted her to take. 

“Deep breaths Carter,” Bucky murmured. “Take your time, slow and steady,” he added as she coughed and panted.

After a while of this, once her breathing evened out, he helped her sit upright and handed over his canteen while she leaned against his side. Steve had finally torn his gaze away from her and walked on to camp. No more was said between them, and once she'd had her fill of water, they too rejoined the group. Peggy went straight back to help Falsworth.

“How’s it going Monty?” she asked, ignoring his concerned expression.

“Almost finished Carter,” he replied. “I’ve left all the supplies you wanted for tomorrow.” 

She knew he could handle Morita’s leg but she was determined to continue working. Peggy kept her focus on Morita and avoided Steve’s gaze from where he stood not five feet away. 

Peggy had the foresight to leave enough supplies for the morning, to soothe what she knew would be maddening itching and discomfort. Once the supplies were packed away in her care, she stood for a moment listening to the chatter before she circumvented Steve and headed right into the tent and into her bedroll. She tried to get sleep before her turn for watch, but it proved difficult that night. None of the men slept easily. She woke to hear more than one gasp and howl. Nightmares. Guilt. Her chest hurt. And when she woke up hours later the rest of her body ached too. 

On her way out of the tent she noticed Junior thrashing so hard in his sleep he jolted himself awake. She pressed her hand to his shoulder. There was nothing to say, but she sat with him for a minute.

“Pinky, do me a favor and check on Junior,” Peggy said to him as she took his spot.

He didn’t have to ask why. “Sure thing Carter,” he promised. 

Bucky joined her a moment later, even though she knew it wasn't originally his rotation. She steadfastly kept her eyes trained ahead.

"How's your chest?" he asked, breaking the early morning silence.

"Fine," she said shortly. 

"You know I knew a guy who used to have respiratory problems," he started casually, "so don't lie Carter."

She fixed him a lackluster glare.

Bucky shook his head but didn't comment. They sat and stared as the night receded around them.

"He's not mad at you," Bucky said, some minutes later. "He was worried."

Peggy bit her lip knowing exactly which “he” Bucky was referring to, not willing to respond. Not to further bruise her pride.

"You two are seriously the same. Running straight into the fire," he sighed incredulously. "But if you hadn't, he would have. So don't let that be what eats at you."

Peggy broke her stare down with the birch tree up ahead, and looked carefully at Bucky. His eyes were soft, and she got the sense that he'd had similar conversations with Steve when things had not worked out for the skinny Brooklyn kid. 

"I appreciate the sentiment," she said in a small voice, still a bit hoarse. 

Bucky nodded. "You did a very noble thing back there. A very Steve Rogers move."

This got Peggy to crack a grin at him. It was a high compliment. But the sinking feeling in her stomach didn’t disappear.

The sky was still dark in the morning when Steve had decided they would get an early start. The camp was packed up and Peggy administered the rest of the medical supplies. Then, achy and exhausted they headed out. It would be another full day of walking, perhaps longer, until they made it to safety and medical supplies. Steve had changed the course, set on them getting to the nearest field hospital rather than heading straight to meet Colonel Phillips. 

It became very quickly clear this was the right decision. The groans began early as the burns blistered, itched, seeped and just downright hurt. By early afternoon Peggy couldn’t stand inaction. She made a show of swinging her bag around while still in motion, reaching for supplies, as there was no time to lose. She flitted between the men with the worst burns, and told the rest of them to suck it up best they could. She cut new bandages and helped change as many dressings as possible while on the go until they had officially run out of supplies. 

A few hours later, on their first break, Steve watched Peggy sidle up to Dernier. He had been rubbing at his arms, quietly muttering helplessly in French all the while. Steve looked on as Peggy turned her pack inside out searching for something, anything that could possibly bring comfort. She finally found a small pouch and she offered up its contents, her personal cosmetics, for use, starting with her tin tube of Vaseline. Dernier tried to wave her off, too modest to take what she offered.

“Ç'est pour vous,” she insisted. 

“Merci mademoiselle Peggy,” Dernier murmured with grateful eyes.

“De rien, mon ami.”

Steve tried to catch her eye as they got a move on again, but Peggy was still keeping an eye on Dernier. A few hours later she saw Morita scratching at his legs, grimacing but silent. She swung her pack again, pulling out her beloved cream, her one luxury, and handed it over telling Morita that a little went a long way. It was not magic but it seemed to soothe the boys for the time being. If nothing else it gave them something to talk about, as Morita shared his new wealth.

Dugan loudly sniffed at Sawyer. “You almost smell good now man,” he proclaimed.

“I hate you,” Sawyer grumbled in usual manner, sparking a few half smiles.

After the second break, Steve sent Dugan to the back and asked Peggy to join him up front, requesting her help in navigating, or so he claimed. He had her consult his map and double check his projected route. She made one minor suggestion and otherwise they followed the course in silence, Steve keeping in step with her. Along the route she covertly checked on him, trying to gage his mood. She had wanted to say something, to talk about the other day, but for some reason she wasn’t sure how to bring it up. And she was reasonably sure that if she didn’t bring it up first, they might never address their shared near-death experience. 

An hour of silence gone by, and seemingly no angry expression, Peggy finally turned to Steve with purpose. 

"Thank you. You saved my life."

Steve looked at her with serious eyes. "Of course. There's nothing to thank me for."

Although she felt lighter now that the silence was broken, she felt an odd tension between them. A disconnect. She expected more, expected him to voice his anger, or his worry as Bucky had proclaimed it. Neither came. She assumed by the finality of his voice, that would be that of any further discussion. 

They walked on. 

It was late afternoon when they settled down for a real meal break. They had made good time, and Steve had consulted Peggy once more. They agreed with the extra fuel, they could make the hospital in perhaps two more hours at a brisk pace. They could likely arrive just after nightfall. It would be hard but it was clear that going another night without medical supplies would be dangerous. Peggy herself had started coughing intermittently again. The men took out the rations and built a small fire. 

Peggy had her heart set on lying down for a few minutes to catch her breath. But before she could sit, Steve called her aside, face grim and serious again. She followed his long strides into the dense brush, far enough from the group that they wouldn’t be overheard.

"That was really stupid Peggy," he said in a low voice, arms crossed. 

His tone reminded her of his serious expression when he had picked her up in that building. She remembered the intensity in his blue eyes, and the weight of him as he shielded her.

"I won't apologize. You would have done the same thing.”

"You could have died," he inhaled sharply, "and I was really worried."

The admission stirred something more than camaraderie in her heart. With a quick look over his shoulder, Steve moved a step closer and embraced her tightly. Steve didn’t have much experience with hugging women, he wasn’t sure if he was even doing it right. All he knew was that he needed to feel close to Peggy. The hug was instinctual, and he felt very relieved when her own arms tightened around him. He clung to her warmth, resting his head against her own, sighing against her dusty hair.

When they pulled away from each other, Peggy could still feel his warmth, permeating below the surface of her skin.

"You're one of us Peg," Steve said. "You never have to thank me. Besides, I think at this point you've saved us all more than the other way around."

She’d been protecting them in small ways all the while just as she saved them in grand ways in battle. And Steve wanted her to know her worth to the team.

"Yes well," Peggy managed a weak chuckle.

Before Peggy could move back toward the fire, Steve snagged her sleeve, not quite finished. 

"Just... there's a reason I go in first. And it's so I can make sure the rest of you get the best chance."

Peggy nodded. "When there's the opportunity for cautious behavior, I will promise to try to exercise it. That's all I can swear to Steve."

They both knew it wasn’t much of a promise. Missions rarely afforded that luxury, and even more rarely go according to plan. But the acknowledgement helped Steve all the same. 

Around the fire the men were a little more upbeat than they had been for days. 

"Peggy? You got any other hidden treasures in your pockets?" Dugan broke the silence. 

Bucky started to laugh and then Peggy glowered at him. 

"You know very well I don't have pockets Timothy!"

There was an uproar of chuckles and chattering. Nothing like talk of Peggy's trousers to brighten the mood.


	4. Chapter 4

The satisfaction of reaching the field hospital was palpable. Although a meal had brightened the mood for a short while, the last leg of their trek was excruciating, though no one complained. Sighs of relief sounded all across the group. Even Peggy felt dead on her feet, the burden on her lungs no longer ignorable. No longer worried about the rest of the Commandos, who would be amply taken care of, Peggy wanted to sneak away and get some sleep. 

Unfortunately for Peggy, a field hospital meant a thorough look at, one she could not shake off. Especially not with Steve's hard glance and crossed arms. Everyone was to be looked at, including Steve, although he was just as soon released. Most of his wounds had already healed. And despite her insistences that she was with the men from the 107th and that with them she would remain, a doctor had forced her to a separate tent. One for women. He proclaimed in a haughty voice something about preserving her modesty and keeping the men comfortable. She had quite a few choice retorts about her modesty and where he could shove it, but her lungs were not up for the task. And that only made her more frustrated. 

It was hours later when Steve, Bucky and Falsworth, the first ones cleared, cleaned and patched up, made their rounds to check on their unit. Dernier had the most damage but even he was looking in better spirits, chatting away in French to Jones, who had the bed next to his. Steve was making a mental count although he had already noticed Peggy was nowhere to be found. He tried to think back for the precise moment he last saw her, but he couldn’t recall. He had assumed she was being looked at by one of the doctors. He hadn’t hear about anyone being moved.

Once he accounted for the men in the tent, he went out to where Dugan was pouring whiskey into canteens as Falsworth seemed to be setting up a game of cards. 

"Anyone seen Peggy?" he asked.

Bucky shook his head. 

"Nah. Maybe she's still being looked at?" Dugan suggested.

Steve shook his head. "She's not in the tent."

Bucky stood up, handing over his canteen to Dugan for safe keeping. "Maybe she's checking in on intel? Or sending a message to Phillips?"

Steve didn't look convinced.

"Why don't you go pull rank and ask around? I'll go look for her myself." 

Bucky knew his friend was more worried about Carter than he let on. And frankly, Peggy not throwing sass at them, taunting them for one reason or another and giving someone hell was alarming. They were so used to her presence and company. Even Dugan looked concerned, ready to offer his fists to aid the situation. But they had him stay put just in case. 

Bucky wandered through the tents until he finally managed to find a pretty petite nurse to oblige his search. He grinned at her flirtatiously and asked if she had seen Peggy. Luckily the nurse did hear of a woman, a new arrival, being taken care of near the nurses' quarters. Bucky smiled at her but sighed to himself as he continued on. Something wasn't right. No way would Carter allow herself to be separated from her unit. Finally, after using his winning smile on several other ladies, he was pointed to the correct tent. He stuck his head inside eyeing another nurse and what was decidedly the back of Peggy's head.

He cleared his throat to get their attention. 

"Sir, you shouldn't be in here," the nurse said.

"It's alright, Carter's not contagious," he said, flashing his boyish smirk.

The nurse marched up to him trying to block his way, glared at his effrontery.

"Sir-"

"Sergeant Barnes, ma'am," he said in a formal tone, all flirtatious pretense dropped, "and with all due respect, our Captain sent me to make sure _all_ of our team is accounted for. And whose bright idea was it to send her out here? Let me tell ya, that ain't going to go over well with the Captain," Bucky said tersely. 

"She needs oxygen therapy," the dark-haired nurse explained peevishly. 

"So do most of our men," Bucky retorted. 

"Yes well, the doctor thought it more appropriate for Miss Carter to be treated separately," the nurse replied diplomatically.

"It's _Agent_ Carter," he said sternly. Then he craned his neck around the nurse. "Carter get decent. I'm coming in." 

He heard a sheet rustle and the nurse herself turned on her heels toward Peggy, her lips tight and clearly disapproving of Bucky’s behavior. Bucky followed behind. Carter was sitting upright, but too still, an oxygen apparatus covering her face and her top half obviously bare under the blanket. The nurse was fussing and trying to put a second cover on her but Carter swatted her hands away. Bucky carefully sat down next to her, their eyes meeting, hers way too tired and unalert for his liking. Steve would not be happy.

"Guess they don't know you've seen the rest of us in worse condition than you've ever been in," Bucky joked. 

He couldn't tell if she had smiled but she did raise her brow at him.

"You had a bath yet?"

She shook her head, just barely making the motion, obviously too much of a strain on her at the moment.

"I'll make sure she has one as soon as this round is over," the nurse called over, her tone more friendly again. Maybe he had proven he wasn’t as brutish as his first impression.

"Good," he replied. "Steve's gonna be pissed. Already is," he said, turning back to Peggy.

She took his hand suddenly, like she was worried. 

"He's gonna find you. Already been looking. Gone to throw his weight around to figure out why you weren’t with the rest of ‘em."

She eyed him for a moment then looked away. Bucky squeezed her hand. 

"Don't be stupid Carter. He's worried about all of them, so you don't get a pass just because you're his favorite." 

She couldn’t manage to release his hold, so instead she took their joined hands and socked him in the gut. She was too weak for the hit to actually function but he yelped for her benefit anyway, grinning. He sat with her, tucking her against him as she started to droop, until Steve finally showed up. Steve’s face was murderous when he marched into the tent. 

"Took you long enough. Where'd you go? Back into Germany?" Bucky joked, trying to diffuse the tension. 

The nurse gaped openly at him. She clearly recognized Captain America.

"The moment she's well enough, Agent Carter is to be sent back to the main medical tent to join the rest of her unit as has been agreed upon by the Commanding Officer."

"Yes sir," the nurse replied to Steve obediently. "Once I help Agent Carter get cleaned up, I'll make sure she's escorted back."

Steve nodded and thanked her politely. He was still fuming so Bucky called him forward to give him a task to focus on. He pushed him down into his previous spot, gave him Peggy's hand and ordered Steve to support her back, to keep her upright. To Peggy's surprise, he didn’t even blush at the command. She was sure that if they could see more of her face, she would have been flushed all over.

Steve was solid and steady against her, arm carefully curled around her back in support. His features were softer, but his lips remained tight. He said nothing, even though he really didn't like seeing the indomitable Peggy Carter immobile against him. He smiled gratefully at Bucky as he joked to Peggy to go easy on Steve before he left them. The nurse, seemingly mollified at the careful men, and maybe more than a little sympathetic, attempted to give them some privacy. Steve's free hand accidently touched Peggy's bare shoulder and he flushed when he finally realized that her entire torso was bare under the blanket. He removed his hand, setting it back on a safer, blanket-covered spot and let out an embarrassed apology. Peggy was amused by his pink cheeks. Peggy closed her eyes and rested her head against Steve’s chest.

Once her round of therapy was over, the nurse reiterated her promise to Steve that she would escort Peggy back shortly. Reluctantly, although encouraged by a firm nod from Peggy, Steve finally stood up.

“Thank you for all your help ma’am,” Steve said. “Peggy, I’ll see you in a bit.”

“So that’s Captain America, huh?” the nurse mused aloud. “He’s much more… gentlemanly than I expected in a guy with such a daunting look about him.”

Peggy snorted. It was easy to forget that most people only knew Steve as his image: a tall, impossibly strong, broad-chested American hero. But for Peggy, Steve’s strength was more than his physicality. It was his entire being. A good-hearted soul through and through, both gentle and headstrong all at once. That was the Steve she knew. That was the Steve that had awaken something deeply buried in her heart.

As promised, the nurse helped Peggy get clean. Once able to talk again, Peggy thanked her for her patience with her overprotective friends, and for finding her a clean undershirt. She learned her name was Donna, and that she worked with the American Red Cross. She had been at that particular field hospital for almost six months and had a wealth of news and gossip. They talked a little about the war effort, and Peggy couldn’t help but give the eager woman a few tales of her adventures with the Captain America and the Howling Commandos. After spending some time eating with the other nurses, happy for some female company for a change, getting some news from the women who'd seen it all and knew more than anyone realized, she headed back to her men, eager to check on them. Donna, insisted on helping her there and promised to come over in the morning to the main tent to administer her next round of oxygen therapy. It didn’t escape Peggy’s mind that Donna might quite possibly hope to get another look at Captain America. She was sure her observations would make the rounds in the nurses’ quarters before morning.

 

Steve stood when saw Peggy make her way toward them. She tried to shake him off but he refused to leave her side.

"Alright Carter?" Falsworth called.

"Alright Monty," she replied, voice still weak.

She insisted on hearing the updates, and the plan before settling for the night. They were to meet Phillips and the Fifth Army. It meant a twenty mile trek to meet their transport, once the team was ready to move. 

It was past midnight, and Peggy’s head had lolled, as she fought to stay awake. Once she had dropped her cards a second time, Dugan insisted she stop trying to show him up at Poker and finally go get some sleep. Their tents were all ready and she couldn’t argue with him, not least when Steve needed to help her on her feet. The boys bid her goodnight before returning to their gambling over the last of their cigarettes.

Steve escorted Peggy to the tent, helping her place her bedroll and making sure her kit was at her feet. Then, unwilling to leave, he pulled up his bedroll close enough next to hers to still be respectful. 

"You sure you're okay?" he whispered.

"I'm on the mend," she assured. "I'm sure after my morning treatment I'll be good as new."

Steve nodded even though her eyes were closed. He leaned over to brush her hair out of her face, her eyes opening, surprised at the touch. 

"I'm so glad you're okay," he breathed, eyes full of warmth and worry.

She surprised him by lifting a hand to his jaw, fingers tracing through the stubble within her reach. She watched his eyes flutter closed at her touch. It caused a stir in her stomach but she was way too tired to pursue it further. 

"Relax Captain. You should get some sleep. You've earned it. You got us all here in one piece."

He shifted himself an inch closer, then turned onto his side, until finally he braved putting his palm gently on her arm. She leaned into his touch and after a moment of stillness, making sure she wasn’t repulsed, he curled his arm around her atop the blanket. He watched her breathe, rapt and reverent, until it slowed and evened out. He continued to watch. She had long since fallen asleep when Bucky cleared his throat a while later. Steve promptly lifted his arm off Peggy before he and Falsworth joined the tent for the night. He didn't bother to shift away from her.

In the morning she was the first one awake, smiling at a sleepy Steve as she exited the tent. Once Steve was up and ate breakfast, he found Peggy in a chair near Morita, Jones and Dernier, cracking jokes and looking fresh as a daisy, her hair pulled back and a fresh coat of lipstick in place. He smiled at her and joined her in cheering the boys up. Mostly he sat back and listened. 

 

Peggy and the rest of the Commandos were glad to be heading back toward a base camp, toward supplies, a new mission and maybe a bit of rest beforehand. When they pulled in, Agent Carter was immediately pulled away by Phillips, with an order for the rest of them to write up their field reports before their mission debrief in two hours’ time. The boys did as they were told over watery but hot coffee and food fresh from the mess. There they caught up with Howard Stark who had just flown in to consult on some weaponry. 

"Heard you guys got into a right mess in Germany. Looks like you all made it out alright," Stark commented over his mug of coffee.

"Got lucky. We're all out of supplies otherwise," Steve replied.

“Yeah, and I see I’m going to have to make some improvements on your suit Cap,” Howard said, noting the singe marks on his suit. 

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, you gotta come up with something that’ll withstand a building exploding.”

“Luckily, I never stop tinkering,” Howard replied with a serious nod. “How’s Peggy?”

"You know Peggy. Saving our asses by the skin of her teeth," Dugan hollered.

"Would've ripped my leg off if she didn't give me stuff out of her personal stash," Morita chimed in.

"Saved a boy's life running into that fallin' building," Bucky said.

“We owe her a lot,” Steve said firmly.

“She attracts trouble,” Stark started before taking another sip, "so much I think she likes it," he smirked to approving laughter.

"Hey Stark? You know women. And you got money," Morita said, taking out an empty jar. "Think you can get your hands on some of this stuff? For Carter. Kinda owe her."

Stark examined the small glass container, twisting open the lid and sniffing carefully at the residual content. "Mmm… French," he said decidedly after he finished his examination.

“How can you tell it’s French?” Junior asked.

Howard sighed, his eyes glazed over. “Trust me pal, when a woman smells like that, you remember. And you make a point to keep her well-stocked with it. God I miss Paris,” he said wistfully before turning his attention towards the jar. "Quality stuff. I can probably swing it by her birthday. It'll make a nice present."

"Carter's got a birthday coming up?" Bucky asked Steve.

He nodded. "April 9th," he supplied to teasing grins.

"That's soon. What do you get a hellcat like Carter?" Dugan mused out loud.

"A new shotgun?"

"A Nazi to punch?"

Bucky cracked a grin. "I know exactly what we're getting her. And Stark, we're gonna need your help."

Steve looked at his friend in confusion, the others looking on just as questioningly as Bucky grinned smugly. 

"What’s the only thing Carter complains about?"

There were knowing chortles. 

"Pockets," Steve grinned.


	5. Chapter 5

Agent Carter, while more than just an honorary Howling Commando, was officially merely on loan to them. As Phillips constantly reminded them, Agent Carter had more important work to oversee. The gruff Colonel valued her too highly to let her run loose with Captain America’s ragtag team. And frankly, despite Phillips’ surly manner of address, it was clear to the one-oh-seventh how much he liked her. The same could be said of Steve Rogers. It was no wonder Phillips allowed his two not-so-secret favorites to work together as much as he did.

Peggy was hard at work, her days filled not just with tactical briefings and codebreaking but a whole slew of responsibilities befitting an S.O.E agent. And while the boys had tactical meetings and often supported official army missions, they had a lot more downtime within camp than Peggy. Thus the Secret-Carter-Birthday-Plan was a welcome source of amusement. 

After a raucous and overwrought explanation to Howard over coffee, they hatched a plan, one featuring a quick turnaround so that it was all good to go early, just in case something came up. The Commandos were excited by the bit of espionage the plan entailed that it had been hard for them to tamp down their excitement when they were reunited with Peggy at their debriefing. She had given them a hard look, but Dugan was still chortling. Steve and Bucky teamed up to punch Dugan in the gut in order to get the giddy grin off his face.

Bucky mimed drinking out of his flask while Peggy met his eyes, purposefully pointing his finger at a now grimacing Dugan. “What can you do?” he said shrugging his shoulders.

Her eyebrow remained raised but then the meeting was called to order, and more sobering matters were at hand.

The plan would take some time. Any spare tactical gear, especially in the midst of war, was carefully inventoried and protected. It would take a well-crafted maneuver to get a hold of a pair of trousers, even simple pocket-less ones. Especially in a perfectly Peggy size. This led to lots of ribbing among the Commandos during their long discussion about the proper fit of women's trousers. And how to assure Peggy’s proper fit.

“We could secretly measure her,” Dugan suggested and immediately withdrew at Steve’s frown.

“We could ask,” Junior proposed.

“Then it wouldn’t be a surprise Junior,” Sawyer replied with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh right,” Junior said sheepishly.

“You never directly ask a lady for her measurements,” Bucky told him sagely. “It’s impolite.” 

“What do you think, Cap?” Jones asked.

“I think we missed a chance with laundry day,” he admitted. 

“Well then that’ll be Plan B,” Bucky said. “Hopefully we won’t have to wait that long to figure out a more solid plan.”

“You don’t have to wait for that, I already know what has to be done,” Howard piped in, appearing from thin air, his moustache twitching. “See I could offer my expertise in ladies’ figures, but I have a feeling Rogers won’t be so pleased with my accurate guesswork of Peg’s measurements.” He patted Steve on the shoulder. “Anyway that won’t be as fun as the alternate.”

Howard stood with his back arched and a hand on his hip as the Commandos leaned closer to hear his plan.

“So? What’s the big idea Stark?” Pinky asked with exasperation.

“We’re going to borrow a pair of her pants,” Howard replied with a big smirk. 

“Borrow?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, in and out, she’ll never know they were gone,” Howard said. “Once we have the new pair, it’ll be an easy tailoring job.”

All the Commandos, even a reluctant Steve, nodded in agreement. However, to sneak a pair of Peggy’s trousers for a few hours would require a distraction. It would be tricky to pull one over on Carter so they all immediately agreed that Steve (who blushed at the prospect of stealing clothing out of Peggy's tent) would be their best bet of keeping Peggy occupied for a few hours. 

“One thing though,” Dugan started, “we gotta make sure that when we sneak in Peggy’s not wearing her pants.” 

“I’ve got plenty of great ideas on how to get Peggy’s pants off,” Stark declared with a leering smirk.

Bucky snorted and stopped shortly at the lethal look on Steve’s face.

 

Phase one began later that same day. The requisition for trousers hit a few bumps. They tried to get Junior to make a request for a new pair with the story that a clumsy fall caused a huge tear (a well-crafted rip made by Dugan). But that fell through as his trousers were patched up and returned without any further consideration from the Quartermaster. The next course of action was to snatch up any spare scrap fabric, but none was to be found. Finally with Stark's help they managed to get hold of enough olive drab wool. 

It was time for phase two, distracting Peggy Carter on a day she wore a skirt. Luckily, as she was frequently flitting between command tents in her official SSR gear, there were a few opportunities. But they needed to be sure they'd get in and out of her tent undetected. No one wanted to face Carter’s ire by getting caught going through her things. Again. And they didn't want to ruin her reputation with any lewd gossip either. It was one thing for the Commandos to make wisecracks at her expense, the men who had spent so much time under her care, but it wouldn’t do to let the rest of camp see her in a less than professional light. They knew better than that. Carter deserved better than that. So it would have to happen after dark. 

 

Steve was nervous. More nervous than he should have been, given that his mission was to spend time with Peggy. He was just trying to find the most natural way of doing just that. And the myriad of suggestions given to him by each and every one of his unit only made his head spin.

“Picnic!” Dugan called out.

“It’s going to be after sundown you twit,” Falsworth replied.

“Moonlit picnic!” Dugan insisted.

“Romantique,” Dernier said.

Morita snorted. “Yeah, with a lovely view of the latrines.”

“Cap can find a better spot,” Junior said.

“Nah, too late to plan a good picnic. What are you going to offer her? Stale crackers and boiled water? Quickest picnic on record,” Bucky said with a shake of his head.

Steve laughed. “Says the guy who took a girl on a picnic in the middle of winter.”

“In Central Park,” Bucky defended. “It was snowing and beautiful. And I found her a bench.” 

“And kept her warm I’m sure,” Jones laughed.

“What about –”

“You know fellas, I think I’ve had enough of your great ideas,” Steve grumbled. 

They were sympathetic enough to change the subject, but Steve felt even more nervous than before. This wasn’t a date. He was just going to keep Peggy company for a short while. He would figure it out for himself.

 

Because Steve was called over to Phillips just as the plan was meant to happen, they lost track of Peggy as she left the mess tent. Once Steve was free, Dugan and Bucky suspected that Carter was in her tent, as she was nowhere to be found in any of the other camp areas. Jones confirmed this with a signal from his lookout spot on the way to her tent. The relay system they set up for the mission was already active. It looked like Steve had to make sure to find a way to coax Peggy out.

Dernier, nimble-handed and a little more graceful than the rest, was appointed the task of lifting the trousers out of Peggy's tent. Falsworth was his backup. Bucky was to keep within view of her tent without being seen, as a lookout. The rest were stationed at various points—between Peggy’s tent and the tent they would be using to tailor the pants—as to not raise suspicions. And with the go signal, Steve headed toward Peggy's tent, trying to keep his breathing even. He inhaled deeply before stopping in front of her tent. 

"Agent Carter?" he called out through the opening of her tent. 

He heard her shuffle within before her head poked out. Steve stepped back to give her space to step out.

"Captain," she greeted properly, but there was a soft smile on her face.

"I hope I'm not disturbing."

Peggy shook her head. "Just going over some reports. I’m to meet the reconnaissance team when they arrive in a few hours." 

This was good news, as she would be further occupied for the night, extending their window. 

"Did you need something Captain?" she prompted when Steve faltered.

"Oh!" he blurted, feeling stupid. "Thought you might need a break. Maybe we could go for a walk?" Steve asked in a quiet voice, even though other than his hidden team, there were not too many men milling about. With stragglers still leaving the mess tent and a chess tournament set up as entertainment for the evening, her area of camp was sparsely occupied. 

Even though he was pretty confident Peggy liked him, he was still worried she would say no, and not just for the sake of the plan. 

But she didn't question him. "Alright. One moment," she said before ducking back into her tent. 

Falsworth and Bucky both give him a thumbs up, falling back into shadows just as Peggy came back out wearing her leather jacket. Steve was glad to notice she was wearing a skirt. He led the way, off toward the camp gate, not just because it was a bit of stretch but because it was far from the tent Falsworth and Dernier would be heading toward. After a very sly check behind him, seeing Dernier sneak in, he focused solely on Peggy, watching her face in the low light. After spending so many hours with her out in the wild, freely talking, he felt strange having to be so careful inside the campgrounds. Not that he minded, knowing her reputation could be so easily swayed due to gossip. But it made him wish they had a secret place, just to talk. 

He loved talking with her. She was the first woman he had ever felt comfortable conversing with. 

"How are you doing Peggy?" Steve asked quietly.

She smiled up at him. She loved how earnest he was, taking time just to ask how she was, even though he saw her every day, albeit at a distance. 

"Alright," she said.

"I know you're real busy."

She chuckled. "Quite. Phillips is spread a little thin out here," she admitted. 

"Good thing he's got the best person on the job," Steve said proudly.

They smiled at each other and continued to walk. 

"And you Steve?"

"I'm fine. I've been missing home a bit," he admitted.

They found a quiet spot near the edge of the camp enclosure and sat down on a makeshift bench. 

"Thinking of Brooklyn?"

"Mostly my mom. I dreamt about her, after you saved that woman's son. Her face... how entirely distraught she was because she thought her son was dead."

Steve wasn’t sure what prompted him to tell her this. He hadn’t even mentioned it to Bucky yet. But it was true, and he wanted to share it with Peggy.

She listened silently, angling her knees toward him without actually touching him, her eyes encouraging him to continue. 

"I'm not sure if I ever saw anything quite like that on ma. She probably tried to be strong for me. But that time I had scarlet fever... I still remember how desperate she looked." 

Peggy pressed her leg against his, and he knew if they were elsewhere she would have held his hand. 

"Is that what you dreamt about?" she asked in a soft voice.

"I remember her face really clearly. Just watching me. I think she was glad to see me alive. She smiled." 

Peggy nodded at him. "I'm sure she's very proud of you Steve. Seeing the wonderful man her good-hearted son continues to be," she said with conviction. 

Steve looked over, a warm smile on his face. "I wish I could tell her about you," he whispered. "If she were alive, I'd write home about you," he continued in a murmur.

Peggy felt her heart leap up in its cage. She felt the strong, warm urge that came over her frequently while in his presence. After a long moment of staring into his eyes, she stood suddenly and ordered him to follow. She wove a path between some of the supply sheds until they were in a dark corner of camp with no one in sight, and no tent openings facing them. He was confused and curious. Perhaps he had been too forward. Or he somehow insulted her. It wouldn’t be the first time he unintentionally offended a girl with his lack of charisma. 

Peggy’s eyes darted around for a moment before she pulled open one of the doors and beckoned him in with urgency. Once inside, following her behind a stack of crates, they stopped, just inches apart. She saw the questions on his face. 

"Just come here soldier," she let out softly and as he took a step forward, a tentative one, her arms reached out to touch him, to encircle him. He let himself be pulled into her body.

Her hug was fierce, her fingers so welcome against him and he sighed into her ear. He stooped to nuzzle into her neck and her fingers ran up the back of his neck, carding through the short hairs at his nape. It made him shiver.

"Can't be in here long," she whispered, "it's not quite so secret. But I just…”

She didn't need to finish the thought because Steve knew. He knew exactly how she felt. He circled her waist, arms tighter on her than he'd ever dared. He lapped up the puffs of hot breath against his cheek. They remained that way another minute, maybe two, clutching each other. Not long, but enough for the moment, for the place. Then when Peggy pulled away, Steve obediently stepped back. But before they turned to the door, she reached up to touch his cheek, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, as usual. When she didn't pull away immediately, he opened his eyes. She was biting her lip. 

"If I kissed you right now I don't think I'd be able to stop. And I'd rather not walk through camp unable to fix my lipstick or make certain it's scrubbed entirely off your face."

Her words caused a whole body reaction. 

He was glad it was dark in the shed because he was most likely red all over, leaving her concern fairly pointless. She gasped out a laugh and he realized just how tense his whole body had seized up. 

"Breathe Steve. Please. If I had to drag around a faint Captain America, I think that would be a far more suspicious." Peggy swept her fingers once more down his cheek then pulled away. "I just wanted you to know in full disclosure," she whispered, voice low. "Not trying to turn you mad. Or give you the wrong impression."

His entire chest felt warm. Steve laced the fingers of his right hand with her left. Then with his free hand, he carefully tucked an errant curl behind her ear. Her hair was soft, the shell of her ear more so.

"I know," he replied with meaning.

They slipped back out as if they'd been walking, at a respectable distance apart, the whole time. She told him to walk her back, that maybe they could scrounge up some coffee or some hot water at least, her Agent Carter voice back in place. And so they walked, chatting about the weather and the war. 

For someone who just been not kissed, Steve felt pretty damn elated. 

He had a cup of coffee with Agent Carter and stayed long enough to have a look at what the reconnaissance team brought in, offering his own insights when she asked. He stayed even longer to keep her company while she drew up her reports, at which point, especially when Bucky walked by trying to catch his eye, he thought she might have become a bit suspicious. He knew he was not smooth like Bucky, but he tried to tell her good night as casually as possible. The boys successfully completed part two, Peggy's trousers long since returned to their rightful place. Honestly, after their moment in the shed, Steve had forgotten about the plan entirely. 

He listened half-heartedly while Bucky filled him in on the way back to their shared tent. As long as it was completed, it could keep until tomorrow. There were other matters on his mind.

"You were busy for quite a while. Anything interesting happen?" Bucky asked.

Steve ignored his needling and grinned in his bedroll thinking back to his night with Peggy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, but we're almost at the end!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case, there's an f-bomb in this chapter.

Steve awoke with a smile. He couldn’t remember the exact contents of his dreams but he had the distinct impression that they were happy ones.

Headed for breakfast with Bucky, he felt something within his chest, moving down through him. A sort of shiver although he was not cold. It was only when he spotted Peggy sitting at a table with Phillips that he recognized the sensation. Excitement mixed in with just a hint of nervousness. Anxiety even. _Butterflies._

Peggy met his gaze and he read something in her look. A shared something. Longing. They watched each other, stared even. But the moment Phillips shifted his attention back to Peggy, and just before Bucky noticed any sign of intimacy, they had looked away from each other. But the feeling in Steve’s chest did not dissipate. He held it there all throughout breakfast.

By the time a sprinkling of sun managed to peek through the clouds, the Commandos had caught Steve up on the full details of the previous night’s operation. Less distracted by the thundering of his heart than he was the previous night, he focused on the details from his men. Dernier chattered away about how concerned he has been that Peggy would have spotted him stealing her clothes. Jones told him about the complex radio system Morita managed to rig up for each man on the relay system, thumping him on the back in a show of praise. 

“All I did was make some modifications on the handheld transceivers we already had. Gotta love being part of the SSR,” Morita said, shrugging his shoulders in modesty. “Too bad it was unnecessary.” 

“Oh. Why? It wasn’t helpful?” Steve asked.

“Only because didn’t have much to do,” Jones said. “You fulfilled your mission objection to a T.”

Steve crossed his arms. “No need to sound so surprised. I am the Captain.”

Bucky grinned.

“So how did you keep Peggy busy?” Dugan asked.

“What is this? You wanna debrief me?”

Junior nodded. “Sure Cap. Debriefing is how we stay a strong and focused team. Isn’t that what you said?”

Junior had a point. Steve had told his men that an honest evaluation after a mission would keep the group sharp. Even if Peggy was not really a mission.

“We went for a walk,” Steve said. 

“That was some walk then,” Dugan grinned. “Where’d you go?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Towards the south-east gate,” he said. 

He didn’t want to keep anything from his group, but his heart was telling him that there were some things that were meant to stay between him and Peggy. At least for the moment.

“Then I kept Agent Carter company while she reviewed the latest surveillance intelligence,” he finished matter-of-factly.

“Congratulations Steve,” Bucky said, “my advice must have finally paid off.”

Steve frowned. “So where are we on phase three?”

Phase three’s focus was pockets. The whole point of the operation.

“Stark’s on it,” Falsworth told him. “Scrounging up buttons and thread like a good ol’ haberdashery.”

Thanks to Stark, they managed to procure the extra materials needed to put the finishing touches on Peggy’s new trousers. Days ago they had Steve draw a mock-up of the finished product. He spent hours carefully sketching out designs, giving the project as much attention as he had on any of his art school assignments. Finally, they decided on the conventional side and hip pockets, as well as two additional pleated patch pockets with buttons fasteners.

Falsworth, with the most sewing finesse of the Commandos, having patched up plenty of parachutes in his time in the RAF, did the bulk of the simple sewing. But then Howard had taken Steve’s sketches and started to draw over them according to his own barrage of ideas. He seized control of the project proclaiming his own, brilliant specifications: a request to throw on some loops for an attached utility belt, more efficient pocket placement, and some sort of special lining. Stark even insisted on hidden inner pockets that he had put in himself. 

All the added modifications required Stark’s own team to lend their hands. As it turned out, working with Stark allowed for heavy duty thread, and no questions asked. The army was used to Stark's strange supply requests. And the simple guise that Captain America’s team was testing out the portability of a new Stark weapon, was all that was needed to guarantee that the project was completed.

In the end, the design surpassed Steve’s image as well as his expectations. The Secret-Carter-Birthday-Plan was finished, surprisingly with days to spare. It was only a matter of keeping them safe until it was time. And secret. It would be a major disappointment to have gone through all that trouble sneaking around for the surprise to be blown early.

One night, at the usual circle of booze and card games, Peggy had showed up out of the blue. She sat next to Sawyer who smiled at her when she sighed loudly.

“Long time no see Carter,” he said with a smirk. 

They had actually seen her earlier that morning at a meeting. But none of them, other than Steve, had spent more than two minutes with her outside of a command tent in days. Peggy’s lack of free time had helped tremendously at helping keep the lid on their surprise without having to make the Commandos with less restraint actively avoid her. 

“Nice to see you too Sam,” she replied, knuckles affectionately rapping two beats against his shoulder. “Dugan, please tell me that’s whiskey.”

Dugan grinned at her. “You betcha Peggy.” He passed his bottle to Pinky, who poured a generous amount into Peggy’s canteen.

“Long day Carter?” Bucky asked from across the circle.

She sighed again. “You’d be surprised at the competency of the people Phillips has to work with. I could do with some intelligent conversation.”

“Well ma’am, I think you’ve come to exactly the wrong place,” Bucky replied.

They roared in laughter. Peggy grinned, her bad mood already lifting.

“Then I’ll settle with a good long drink in the company of you sad lot,” she said. 

“We’re glad to have you settle for us Peg,” Steve said, saluting her with his canteen. 

 

At the end of March, the Commandos were prepping for a new mission. They were to be sent out to follow a lead on a HYDRA. The SSR had caught wind of a transport truck, and they hoped to track and intercept it before it ended up behind the German line. Peggy was to join them but first she had her own retrieval mission ahead of her. She would head to her contacts in the French Resistance while the boys headed north towards Denmark. 

As long as everything went according to plan, Peggy would radio them within four days to get their coordinates. They decided to wait on the pants. Undercover work meant Peggy would be dressed immaculately, not in fatigues. On the night before Peggy flew out, Steve intercepted her coming out of the command tent. He accompanied her to pick up her jump kit and enough bullets for her pistol. She complained to him half-heartedly about having to jump in a skirt. He was quiet as she checked in with the pilot and the Agent who was to accompany her part of the way. 

Steve knew he would see her in a few days but after the last few weeks in camp together, especially after their secret moment in the shed, he was reluctant to see her go. Her flight was at the crack of dawn so there would be no opportunity to spend any more time with her. He figured she might want to have an early night, prep for her mission, yet Peggy didn't shoo him away. On their way to her tent, they ran into the Commandos who brought her a nightcap and their well wishes. They let Steve and Peggy slip away soon after.

“Be safe,” Steve told her outside her tent.

“And you Steve,” she murmured in reply.

They continued their farewells silently with their eyes.

 

Steve felt like he had just drifted off when he felt pressure against his shoulder, followed by a barely audible shush. He rolled over and saw Peggy standing over him. It was still pitch black, only a sliver of moonlight coming through the half-open tent flap. Bucky was snoring, blanket thrown over his head. Peggy pressed her finger to her lips then she leaned down, her face coming dangerously close to his face. Then, softly, she pressed her lips to his. He would have sworn he dreamt it all but her hand was on his shoulder, firm and real. And her lips. Soft and perfect. He could never have imagined the exact incredible warmth a kiss from Peggy provided. 

She grinned from the tent opening before he could react. He slipped out to catch a glimpse of her, lipstick and mirror in hand as she painted her lips for the day. She turned to see him standing there staring slack-jawed. Peggy was still smiling as she continued on her way. When he climbed back into his bedroll he was wide awake. He didn't mind. 

 

Before the Howling Commandos headed out of camp, Steve stopped by Stark to retrieve his cleaned shield and a pouch that Howard told him contained Peggy’s present and its components ready to go.

“Thanks Howard. You have no idea how much I appreciate you helping us out with this,” Steve said. “Peggy deserves as much quality gear as the rest of us. And you really delivered.”

"Anything for you two crazy kids," Howard grinned, pleased as punch and preening like a peacock. 

Steve carefully placed the pouch in his pack.

“You know Cap,” Howard drawled, “I could have made them match your uniform. You know a matching set.”

Steve snorted but he couldn’t deny, that Peggy in a facsimile of his own uniform, would be sight to behold. 

April began unusually cold, only made worse as the Howling Commandos headed north. They managed to track the HYDRA transport from its origin, staying far enough behind them as to not arouse suspicion. They hoped it would lead them to one of the HYDRA facilities on Steve’s map. Or even straight to Schmidt. Or even Zola. But three days later there seemed to be no obvious destination and the truck only stopped to refuel. Luckily, they had the benefit of their HYDRA pals not having spotted their tail.

"Any word from Carter?" Dugan asked that night.

Morita, who was manning the radio, shook his head. "Not yet. Looks like she's still tied up."

"Maybe she went sight-seeing. Wouldn't blame her. This endless cold is getting on my last nerves," Falsworth grumbled.

"Carter? Take a day off from beating someone's chops? Yeah, right," Jones quipped. "Besides you know she likes us too much."

"Well some of us anyway," Dugan joined in.

"Some a lot more than others," Bucky added, smirking around his canteen.

They chortled.

"Who could blame her when Dugan's so charming after a night of drinking?" Steve piped in as he joined after his perimeter check. 

Bucky snickered. "Not bad Rogers. But we know exactly how sweet you are on Carter."

Steve ignored him and sat down. 

"L'amour," Dernier sighed wistfully. 

"And to think I wished for brothers when I was a kid," Steve said sarcastically.

"You got lucky with us," Jones commented. 

"And as your protective brothers, you should know that you and Peggy are safe with us," Dugan said wisely with a tip of his flask in Steve’s direction. 

All the rest of the men nodded intently at Steve, who had blushed and averted his eyes.

"Also, you're gonna be the one to give Carter her present," Bucky added.

In the morning, they received word from the SSR that Peggy would meet them that evening. Peggy hit the ground just past nineteen hundred hours. It had been less than a week but the reunion was nonetheless joyous, full of the familiar teasing and taunting. But when they had made it to the light of the fire, the atmosphere turned somber in a moment. There was a deep, angry ring on Peggy’s neck, mottled reds and purples.

"Merde alors," Dernier gasped.

"You should see the other guy," Peggy deflected with a shrug.

"For fuck's sake Carter –"

"Language!" Steve glowered at Dugan.

“—you can't go a full week without trouble can you?"

"Uh, Cap, have you seen your girl's neck?" Bucky asked.

Steve and Peggy both staunchly ignored Bucky's phrasing.

“I can see fine. But there’s no need to curse at her!”

“I wasn’t cursing at her. I was cursing for her!” Dugan declared.

Peggy rolled her eyes. "If the bloody Agent assigned to me had listened to my instructions we wouldn't have ended up on the noose."

This time when the boys cursed, colorfully and in chorus, Steve said nothing. His frown deepened and turned ugly.

"Christ Carter," Falsworth said.

"No, still just Peggy," she shot back, grinning widely.

"What happened?" Steve demanded.

Peggy rolled her eyes. "Agent Warren went above his station. He blew my tentative trust with one of the Resistance leaders. Then when it all went to utter shit, his grand play was to disobey my orders and offer me up as bait."

It was almost comical to have these men angry on her behalf. And when Dugan nodded to Jones, who nodded in turn to Morita, some secret plan silently agreed upon, she sighed.

"Relax gentlemen. He's punished enough. He wet himself the second he saw the rope. And once I saved his ungrateful arse, Phillips disciplined him."

Dugan still cracked his knuckles, but he bellowed out a laugh.

"Really Carter, the shit you get up to is unbelievable," Morita said with a laugh.

Bucky smirked. "I think she's just showing off at this point." 

"Oh yes, as if I have the biggest ego of the lot of you Barnes," she chortled back.

Steve snorted at this, his tense face loosening slowly. His fists stayed clenched all the while. Later, once the talk settled to a whisper and the men became sleepy, Bucky clapped Peggy on the shoulder.

"Well, since you're in top shape, we'll leave you for first watch, since we know we'll be in your capable hands."

She actually chuckled. "Actually, I probably am more rested than you all. Phillips ordered me to rest before flying out."

Bucky deliberately pushed Steve closer to Peggy, hard enough to actually cause Steve to make contact with her.

"Steve can catch you up on our HYDRA friends," he said with a wink. 

It was a while until they were actually alone, the men shuffling around, going out to relieve themselves. Peggy sipped at her canteen, her shotgun resting in her lap. 

"Barnes was laying it on thick tonight. Any particular reason?" Peggy asked casually.

"I um… No—I didn't say anything." Steve looked concerned. 

Maybe Peggy hadn't meant to kiss him. Or maybe she regretted it. And as his thoughts quickly spiraled he worked himself up into a mild panic.

Peggy just smiled. "I wouldn't have come into a tent you share with him if I couldn't handle Sergeant Barnes finding out. He's your best friend."

Steve smiled shyly, now that she allayed his worries. "I just… dunno. Felt like keeping it to myself. But I think he was just worried about you tonight." Steve lifted his fingers to Peggy's neck. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine Steve. Really. Irritated more than anything."

But she continued to let his fingers brush gently around the bruising.

"You'll forgive me for not finding that answer to be satisfying. I'm surprised Phillips let you join us after that."

Peggy reached up to take the hand at her neck.

"Honestly, I think he was trying to make it up to me. Or was worried I'd destroy what was left of that man."

Steve squeezed her hand. "Phillips likes you a lot more than he likes to admit. He'd rather you not almost get hanged."

"Yes, well, perhaps Colonel Phillips does possess a bit of a bleeding heart. But I may see your point."

Steve hummed. "You know you're safe with us right? All of them respect you."

"You think I tag along for all your good looks?"

Steve and Peggy laughed quietly together. Then over the ambient sounds around them he filled her in on the mission, never letting her hand go. When Bucky and Jones took the next shift, Peggy and Steve climbed into the tent, lying in their bedrolls next to each other. In the early morning she was gently woken by his fingers brushing against her hair. The rest of the tent was still asleep. She blinked awake, content to just look into his eyes, feel his fingers move down to her neck, still concerned over the bruise. He slipped his hand away the moment there was rustling, as one of the men shifted toward consciousness. The moment was over and Steve got up and left the tent. 

A couple of rather mundane days followed, as they continued to tail the convoy. But things quickly escalated and they end up in the middle of their group. With no further chance of secrecy, the inevitable fire fight was long. They purposefully aimed away from the leading truck only to lose track of it while dealing with the rest of the chaos. There was no useful information from any of the fallen HYDRA foot soldiers, and frustrations peaked as they realized they had likely lost the truck for good. Steve had taken off running but even at his speed, it was unlikely they’d find it in time. 

Dugan had kicked at a tree trunk cursing loudly when a vehicle skidded a few feet from him. It was Peggy.

“Get in!” she yelled.

They piled inside without question. Peggy drove at an alarming speed. 

“Where’d you get the truck?” Dugan asked.

“Where’s Steve?” she shouted.

“Ran ahead, headed east,” Bucky told her.

At Peggy’s rate of acceleration, after a few minutes she saw a blur of a blue helmet up ahead. She carefully maneuvered onto the left of the road, screaming at Dugan to open the passenger door before shouting at Steve. They were at the same pace now and Steve looked at her as confused as ever. 

“Inside Captain!”

Without either the truck or Steve stopping, he threw himself cleanly through the open door, slamming it shut so hard, part of the metal frame warped.

“Where’d we get the truck?” Steve asked.

“Dunno. Peggy’s doing,” Dugan answered.

“I hotwired the one HYDRA truck we didn’t blow up,” she explained shortly as if it were something she did every day.

Steve didn't get a chance to be in awe of her until much later. 

It was a long, tense chase. Steve ordered the men in the back to keep their guns at the ready and to let Morita check the radio for any transmissions. He wished he had another vehicle to ride ahead on, just in case they were making wrong turns in their guesswork. Or so they could cut off their enemies. It was something to talk to Stark about at some future point. Luckily, Peggy was one hell of a driver. And they should have known better by now, that she was a wellspring of hidden talents. 

Finally, by some sheer luck, Morita intercepted something on the radio, fragments of directions, and they cobbled up the likely destination from the sparse details. On the outset of some industrial building, smoke stacks brewing thick clouds, they spotted the truck. The fight was clumsy and messy but somehow they managed to slip inside after dealing with the passengers. The driver bit into his cyanide capsule the second Steve got his hands on him. But overall, in the ruins of another one of Schmidt’s secret factories, it counted as a victory.

Even later still, dirty and sweaty, the success brought high-spirited celebrations as they piled back into the truck Peggy commandeered, wahoos and cheers aplenty. Indeed, it was perfect conditions for the eve of her birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, this took longer to edit than anticipated. It's been a long week and being sick during the summer is the worst. The last chapter should be finished shortly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super bummed about the Agent Carter Netflix news, so here's some happiness to finally finish this tale off.

Peggy drove leisurely for miles along a heavily wooded road following their successful take-down. The men were laughing and swapping favorite parts of their mission. She glanced over at Steve who was seated in the passenger seat, eyes fixed ahead but body turned toward his comrades so he could partake in their revelries. 

For Peggy, her favorite part had been seeing Steve take down HYDRA agents with his shield. She recalled the way Steve had gripped the frame of the truck with one hand as Peggy steered them to through the gate, and how he swung the star-spangled shield so perfectly it bounced right back into his hand after taking down three men in those horrid black uniforms in one clean swoop. A most satisfactory sight to behold.

“You’re a helluva driver Peggy,” Steve commented.

“And to think I had to do it on the wrong side of the road,” she replied.

“Good to know we have a getaway driver in our midst,” Bucky yelled over the chatter.

Steve grinned. “You never did say where you learned to hotwire a truck. Is that what they’re teaching all the proper English ladies?”

“Well now, I can’t give away all my trade secrets. It’s a woman’s prerogative to maintain an air of secrecy.”

“So I guess you teaching me would be out of the question?”

“Perhaps I can give a quick practical lesson to round out your training. It never hurts to be prepared. And in the face of HYDRA, one must learn the proper way to commandeer enemy resources,” Peggy teased in a clipped tone reminding Steve of basic training.

Steve chuckled. “You should advise Phillips in revising the training regiments. After all, you did train me.”

Peggy couldn’t help smiling at his ridiculously pleased grin. 

“I’m practically your greatest success story.”

She bit her lip in an attempt to contain herself. 

At the Captain’s discretion of enough distance from the factory ruins, Peggy pulled over and the Howling Commandos set up camp for the night. While not a particularly warm night, there was no wind, and even better, no snow, making sitting around the campfire downright pleasant, adrenaline still pumping through their veins, even if Dugan’s frequent wahooing was enough to draw headaches. But when the boys were happy, Peggy was happy. Even if they did seem particularly giddy. Peggy chalked it up to the epic blow-up of the factory: successful and not a civilian in sight.

Yes, it had been a good day. A good mission.

The cheer was infectious but Bucky had to keep the rest of the guys keep their excited giggles quiet while they secretly agreed that over morning rations they would present Peggy with her new pair of trousers.

Peggy was given the first watch shift even though she should have been later in the rotation. Dernier gave her some vague explanation over his preference to rest for a few hours and so he switched his shift with hers. Peggy worried that perhaps Dernier had some ulterior motive, maybe some kind of pain that pride had prevented him from admitting. But she wasn't one to grumble and besides, this would allow her to get a longer uninterrupted bout of sleep. It was all perfectly in her favor. 

Only morning came earlier than expected. 

Pinky was shouting when Peggy came to in the darkness. Bucky had spotted movement just beyond their camp, she learned as she helped clear the campsite. They barely managed to break down the tents when the shooting began. Peggy joined Dugan up front with her gun, the two aiding Bucky from his hiding spot. 

“Where's Steve?” Peggy asked amid the fire.

“Snuck ahead to slow them down.”

The rest of the Commandos retreated, lying in wait, fortifying a second defense. The noise from camp had died down behind them, as the three kept their guns trained for any targets that slipped passed Steve. Finally, as the noise ahead of them also quieted, Steve emerged.

“We have another wave coming our way,” Steve told them. “They’re coming from the north.”

“How many?” Bucky asked.

“More than thirty.”

“Shit,” Dugan said, “our guys are headed straight toward HYDRA.”

“Peggy do we have any of Morita’s radios?” Steve asked.

“No, we had to pack up in a hurry,” she said. “We need to cut them off before they trap us.” 

Steve sighed. “Might be too late. I’m going to run ahead and warn them. I’ll send them southwest.”

“What about the truck?” Dugan asked.

Steve shook his head. “Not an option. They blew it up.”

Peggy cursed. “Go. We’ll bottleneck as they pursue.”

Steve nodded seriously. “Dugan, I need you at the front of this. Use as many grenades as you’ve got left. Lead them eastward toward Peggy and Bucky,” Steve directed, gesturing to his recommended positions. “Peggy, do whatever you think is best. Get on the high ground. Stop as many as you can. When you see me we run.”

Bucky nodded seriously. “Go!”

Steve was gone in a flash. Peggy swung her handbag around, lifting the strap over her head before tossing the whole thing at Dugan.

“What—”

“There’s no time Dugan! Grenades. Inside. Take it,” she shouted. “Get in place!” 

Dugan swung the black bag over her shoulder and followed the path Steve had taken.

Bucky and Peggy climbed a ridge, silent and stealthily, keeping Dugan within their sight. Peggy hoped that Steve would make it in time to redirect the Commandos from heading right into an ambush. It was too quiet for a while, neither of them speaking. Finally there was movement, and Peggy sighed in relief as she saw Junior, Morita and Pinky run passed, headed towards the new rendezvous point. Dugan leapt forward, throwing a grenade, which was shortly joined by one from Dernier. The Commandos continued their retreat.

Suddenly there was a shadowy movement not far from Dugan. Before she could even react, Peggy heard Bucky land his shot. Dugan had turned toward the now fallen HYDRA soldier. Peggy watched him shout something at the Commandos who lingered, before he dug into her black handbag, both fists clutching explosives. 

Finally, Dugan low on explosives, Peggy and Bucky hitting two more targets a piece, Steve brought up the rear. After a quick check to make sure there were no stragglers, Bucky and Peggy jogged to rejoin the group. It was a miracle that there were no real casualties. Only sore muscles. The only problem now was the tricky terrain they were forced onto, veering far off their original course, and they were stuck going on foot. They moved at a brisk pace, eager to put enough distance between themselves and HYDRA. There was no telling if there were more in pursuit. 

“You know Peggy,” Dugan started from next to her, lifting her bag off his shoulder, “your purse is pretty handy actually.” He continued to look at it. “It’s definitely small and I mean it’s no pockets but—” 

Peggy snatched it out of his hands.

 

Morita radioed in to the SSR to provide updated coordinates and the all clear. But Phillips redirected them, needing them to head right back toward the front. Agent Carter was to lead them to one of the safe houses near the German border. It was a safe house she was quite familiar with from her early days in the SOE. They stuck to the wild as Peggy navigated them through the terrain. 

On the edge of a large farm on an isolated hill within a larger village, she made them wait while she went inside to make contact. She made them promise to stay hidden and not to step foot on the property until she gave the signal. Bucky kept his rifle trained on the house anyway. 

Once the sun had set, Peggy came out of the farmhouse, and she wasn’t alone. Peggy waved them over leading them to the farthest barn, while a stout woman and her lanky teenage son followed with wooden buckets. The woman said little as she escorted them while her son stared curiously at all the Commandos, then with wide eyes upon noticing the star across Steve's uniform. The boy looked like he wanted to say something, but his mother gave a sharp, terse order in German. The boy dutifully lowered his gaze and opened the barn doors.

The barn smelled but it was warm and had a seemingly spacious hayloft. One of the wooden buckets held animal feed, but from the other the woman lifted out a cloth wrapped parcel of food which she handed to Peggy. Peggy thanked her in German and the exhausted men followed in suit. Jones offered to take the feed bucket from the boy, promising to make sure the animals were fed. Instead the boy followed Jones, Dugan and Dernier, excited at the prospect of strangers, in the same way his mother seemed distrustful. Jones, in a friendly tone, asked for his name. 

The woman told them the hour the farm became busy in the morning. Peggy assured her that they would be long gone before sunrise. Steve agreed, making up for his broken German with his earnest and trustful eyes. When the boy's mother called him, he came but stopped in front of Steve.

"Kapitan Amerika?" 

Steve nodded. "Ja." 

The boy grinned at him. Steve shook his hand. 

"Junior, you got that comic?" 

Junior begrudgingly handed Steve his beloved Captain America comic book. Steve then pressed it into the boy's hands, whose eyes lit up at the colorful pages. His mother tried to protest but Steve insisted and looked to Peggy, who in turn explained to the woman that it was just a small token of thanks. She cracked a smile at the cheerful expression on her son’s face and then bid them a good night.

“Cheer up Junior, we’ll get you another,” Peggy said with an amused smile at Junior’s forlorn expression.

“Now you can ask Dum Dum to tell you a bedtime story instead,” Sawyer said patting his friend’s shoulder.

Once they were alone they set up for the night, picking through the parcel from the woman.

“So Carter, you’ve been in this barn before?” Bucky asked.

“Actually no. When it was just me I was given refuge in the main house,” she replied. “This is the price I pay for associating with a band of unwashed, unruly soldiers.”

“Yeah, but you have way more fun with us,” Jones said.

She smiled. “True enough. However, there’s no need to remain unwashed.” Peggy pointed out the well and suggested a quick wash up while they had the chance. 

Morita and Peggy hunched over the radio just outside the barn, tapping out messages to Phillips. When they finished, Peggy headed to the well for a quick wash, scrubbing her face and hands clean. When she returned to the barn dinner was ready. She was so hungry she didn't notice the guys crowding around her until her fork hit metal. She looked up and eyed them with warily. Half of them were giggling. The rest grinned goofily at her. She scolded them only to be met with Falsworth passing her a canteen with what unbelievably smelled like real tea. 

"What's going on?" she demanded.

Bucky snorted as Steve reached inside his pack. He handed her a package.

"Happy Birthday Peggy," Steve said with a warm smile.

She was dumbfounded. Her mouth hung open, speechless for once. They all laughed. 

"Come on Carter! Open it," Bucky urged.

"Before the suspense kills one of us," Jones added.

"Especially after all we had to go through to get this for you," Morita said.

Peggy delicately opened the package to lift out a folded pair of wool trousers. Her eyes roamed over the fabric and then over the pockets, counting off each in her head. Her mouth fell open again. 

“Gentlemen…” she let out, her chest warm, unable to help having anything but such fondness for these blokes and their dumb grins. “This is perfect.”

Dugan chortled. “Peggy's finally got pockets.”

"And things in those pockets," Steve added.

When she lifted out a full jar of her preferred face cream, she almost gasped. 

"Courtesy of Howard Stark," Morita explained.

"Many happy returns," Falsworth said, lifting up his canteen in her honor. 

The rest of them followed in a toast. Peggy, still clutching the fabric to her chest, stood up. She walked around the circle and pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks, turning most them into blushing red messes. Dugan had gone uncharacteristically silent. Junior had thanked her earnestly with wide eyes. Bucky had directed her with a point of his index finger on a proffered cheek, only for Peggy to thump the back of his head and kiss him on the opposite cheek. When she reached Steve, she could have easily become distracted by his bright blue eyes. She kissed his cheek just as she had everyone else, not lingering, nor finding a spot too close to his lips. Even though she wanted to do both. Steve smiled serenely, and she continued. Finally she sat back in her spot and turned her attention back to her present. 

"You should model them for us," Bucky grinned suggestively, eyes leering, but she was in too good a mood to care. And besides, Steve had socked him for her.

"It's not your birthday James,” she said with an impish grin of her own. “It's mine.” 

She went to find a private spot and put them on immediately. When she returned, Peggy was greeted with cheers and applause. They sang to her at a careful volume. She felt incredibly warm and comfortable. 

"I can't believe you lot stole my trousers just to give me pockets," Peggy commented over the cup of whiskey Dugan had poured her. 

Each and every one of them faltered, eyes wide, nervous and silent.

"Oh, please," Peggy said, rolling her eyes, “you may be fairly clever men, but not at all subtle. Nor proficient in refolding clothing to ensure it doesn’t produce wrinkles.”

They broke out into tittering laughter. It's the most fun Peggy has had in years, drinking and playing cards with all these bumbling men. There were further quiet renditions of birthday songs performed in various languages and Steve pressed a block of chocolate into her hand, saved especially for her. She was sure it was the best birthday she had in at least four years or so, out in the middle of a musty stench-filled barn, during a war. But the cheer in the tent was so tangible for a moment, she forgot that she was anything but a young woman celebrating another year of life. She felt at home with the Howling Commandos, men who not only remembered her birthday but found a way to gift her with something she had truly wanted. 

Peggy was let off watch duty for the night and the booze ensured she did not, for once, fight the special treatment. Especially not when she was sitting so close to Steve. By the time the first watch headed outside, her head rested against his arm. Peggy sighed contentedly, drowsy against Steve. Bucky suggested Steve help Peggy clear some room up in the barn's hayloft for their bedrolls. Steve blushed but Peggy was still riding on birthday cheer, and thus more than happy to follow the suggestion. She did however miss Bucky’s suggestive wink.

The hayloft was still empty, the rest of the men still awake, chatting, smoking and playing cards down below. It was obviously intentional. So when Peggy found a spot in the corner, she watched Steve expectantly until he set up next to her. She propped herself up on her elbow.

"Thank you Steve," Peggy whispered, her hand reaching out to him, lacing their fingers together. 

"It was a team effort."

Peggy nodded. "I'm sure. But I'm equally sure Dugan had no prior knowledge of my birthday."

Steve smiled. "So good birthday then?"

"I'm sure pockets will come in handy in some way or another," she replied in a lofty tone.

He grinned. "Don't act like you're not thrilled. That's all you complained about."

She grinned back. "It was the most splendid surprise. I really rather expected for another birthday to just pass me by," she admitted.

"Nope. Can't allow it. Birthdays are important. They deserve to be acknowledged."

Peggy hummed. "I can think of one other thing that would be nice to receive on my birthday." 

She watched Steve search her face. And when Peggy leaned toward him, he let go of her hand to touch her cheek. Peggy closed her eyes and Steve tentatively touched his lips to her mouth. It was sweet and soft and chaste. When she remained in place, he ventured to try it again. He sighed against her when her fingers tangled in his hair. She tilted her head further, working open-mouthed kisses against his slick lips. Inexperienced as he was, Peggy found Steve never lacked enthusiasm.

"You look like it's been your birthday too," Peggy whispered some time later, fingers still running through his now disheveled hair. 

Steve felt his face flush but didn't deny his enjoyment. He did feel like he was just given a gift. 

"I do feel very lucky."

"You're sweet," she said, trailing her fingers down to his jaw. She loved making his eyes flutter closed, to see the thrill in his features at the most innocent of touches.

"And you're incredible. Peggy, it feels like a dream."

Peggy shifted upright and embraced his shoulders, smoothing her fingers down his back. 

"You’re not asleep just yet, Steve." 

Steve basked in how she curled around him. He could stay put in her arms for eternity, to revel under her tender touch. It was a long while before they rolled into their blankets. Steve was lying on his back, committing the night to his memory, when he felt Peggy's hand on his chest. He turned to meet her gaze as she slid right next to him, palm never losing contact. 

"You'll have to tell me the full trouser tale later," she murmured in a sleep laden voice.

“You got it.”

“Maybe it’ll make it into your comics. Captain America and the Howling Commandos and their trouser burglary.”

Steve snorted. “We borrowed,” he stressed, “and for a good cause.” He moved his hand up and down her back, coming to rest between her shoulder blades. 

“Indeed.”

“They may just be uniform pants but Stark sure went all out on the design. Said something about modifications suited specially for the recipient. A special lining I think?" Peggy felt him shrug. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

“Well with technology like this," she teased. Steve huffed in mock-indignation. "I'll have to remember to thank him. He may be the most arrogant man, but he always comes through doesn't he?” 

Peggy pressed herself even closer, her arm now thrown over Steve, effectively hitching herself to him. He liked that very much, unable to withhold a pleased grin. 

“You're always so warm,” she murmured.

Steve watched her long after she drifted off. They remained curled together until Steve was woken for his turn for lookout duty. He very gently disentangled himself from Peggy, pulling his blanket over her to make up for the sudden loss of body heat. In the wee hours of the morning the men climbed down to clean up and pack. Bucky kept his eyes on Steve when Peggy climbed down from the hayloft. 

"So, how was the rest of the night?" he pried.

"Very nice," Steve replied.

"So does that mean you got a thank you kiss?"

Steve blushed but he nodded at his best friend. 

"No shit? On the lips?" Bucky asked in a hiss. Steve smiled unconsciously. "Fellas! Steve's been kissed!" Bucky shouted to Steve's horror. 

Despite the early morning, he received a rousing bit of cheering.

"Wahoo!"

“'Bout time!”

“C'est merveilleux.”

Steve looked at Peggy with absolute helplessness and dread. To his immense surprise, she merely rolled her eyes. 

Bucky clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Relax punk. You're secret is safe with us. Plus Carter scares us."

Peggy snorted but she was smiling as she finished assembling her pack, filling out her pockets with essentials. "Once you are all finished not minding your own business, let's head out, quietly."

Steve was the only one who squared his shoulders and nodded. The rest were still too amused. Bucky sidled up to Peggy on their way across the field. Even in the dark she could see his blinding smirk. 

"And why do you look so damn pleased with yourself Sergeant?"

"Because I've been trying to make this happen for months."

Peggy snorted at his self-satisfied smirk. "Oh honestly," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's not as if it's the first time I’ve kissed him." 

Bucky was left stuttering in astonishment. She marched to the head of the group, glancing back so he could see her grinning from ear to ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the longest story I've ever finished and shared. Thanks for sticking with it.


End file.
